


Five Times Derek Heard Something He Wished He Hadn’t, and the One Time He Did

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hears Gross Things, Don't copy to another site, Eavesdropping, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Derek, Pining Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, werewolf problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: “This place is hell,” Derek decided. “This place is absolutely hell.”How was it possible he’d gone so many years of his life without hearing anything nearly as over the top as he had just visiting Stiles at school? This had to be some kind of record for the most disgusting things he’d ever overheard.--(I mean really, the title says it all lol)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 72
Kudos: 2232





	Five Times Derek Heard Something He Wished He Hadn’t, and the One Time He Did

**Author's Note:**

> Was in a bit of a funk, so decided to write something completely ridiculous. Last time I was in a funk I wrote about Stiles falling out of windows, so I figured it was time for another 5+1. 
> 
> HUGE thank you to [adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara) who was oh-so kind to help me think up disgusting things to write about, and consequently is the reason I now know what a duck's dick looks like (thanks bro). 
> 
> **WARNING:** It was hard to tag about this, but Derek overhears a lot of gross conversations, including girls talking about their period as well as pee, animal dicks, sperm and a very unfortunate vomit incident. If any of those are too much for you to handle, probably best to skip this one. If you're the kind of person who laughs at gross things, should be right up your alley.

Derek Hale was a Werewolf. He was born a Werewolf, he grew up a Werewolf, and he would eventually die a Werewolf. That was just a fact of life for him. He was a Werewolf, so he didn’t know what life was like _not_ being a Werewolf. Sure, there was that brief stint a few years back when Kate had fucked him up where he’d gone semi-human, but even then, he wasn’t _entirely_ human. 

He was a Werewolf. He’d grown up this way, which meant he’d lived his entire life with enhanced senses. He’d always assumed that meant that he wouldn’t ever react poorly to things, because after all, he was used to it. But there were just some things that were impossible to get used to. 

For one thing, whenever a skunk was nearby, Derek wished more than anything that colds were a thing for Werewolves. He’d have given _anything_ to have a plugged nose, because if humans thought skunks smelled bad, it was _nothing_ compared to how they smelled to Werewolves. It was so potent and horrible and the smell of it always stuck in the back of his throat for fucking _days_. He hated it so much. 

And while he’d never been upset about his eyesight, there were times where he wished it wasn’t as good as it was. Like the time he’d been trying to figure out if Scott was home and had seen movement in one of the bedrooms. Derek could now confidently say he had a hard time looking Melissa McCall in the eye, because some things were better left _unseen_. And unfortunately for Derek, that was one thing he’d seen and couldn’t _un_ see. 

But while his eyesight and his nose were both frustrating at times, they were _nothing_ compared to his hearing. It wasn’t even a conscious thing, it was just the predator in him. He couldn’t help but listen to virtually everything going on around him. He wasn’t eavesdropping, per se. It was more that his hearing was always ramped up, which meant that he always ended up hearing things he’d much rather _not_ be hearing. 

Besides, he knew eavesdroppers never heard anything good about themselves, which was why he didn’t go out of his way to eavesdrop. Sometimes, it just sort of happened, and more than once in his life, Derek had strongly wished it _hadn’t_. 

* * *

1\. Women talk about disgusting things.

“Stiles, I _swear_ to God,” Derek muttered angrily while stabbing at the dumbass’ contact again, putting it back to his ear. He didn’t like stalking aimlessly across campus looking for him, people were giving him weird looks. 

Sure, he could’ve just been an older student, but Derek knew what he looked like. He knew that people often judged him based on his appearance, and it wasn’t like he didn’t constantly get profiled and arrested for no God damn reason. He didn’t want campus security coming over and asking why he was loitering. 

_Again_. 

That’d be just his luck. 

He still hadn’t forgiven the moron for laughing so hard. 

Fucking stupid Stiles Stilinski, making him come all the way out to his school and then not answering his fucking phone. Sometimes, Derek honestly wondered if Stiles had figured him out and used Derek’s feelings for him to his advantage. He knew that wasn’t true, because Stiles wasn’t like that, but still. Sometimes, he had to wonder. 

But Stiles was the stupidest genius Derek had ever met, so he _definitely_ didn’t know that Derek wanted into his pants. And his bed. And his heart. Really, Derek just wanted to be around him all the time, which made this whole university thing almost _torture_ for him. Because Stiles was two hours away, and living on campus, and going to all these parties and probably having tons and tons of sex. 

Derek’s hand tightened around his phone at the thought, and he forced himself to loosen his grip. Stiles was his own person, he could do what he wanted, and if he wanted to go out and sleep with every single person who showed him interest, he was within his right. Besides, it wasn’t like Derek had ever _told_ him how he felt. And even if he had, it wasn’t like Stiles was going to be interested in him, so what was the point? 

Really, Derek was thankful Stiles was the stupidest genius he’d ever met. 

Probably more thankful that his best friend _knew_ how Derek felt, and just gave him these pathetic little looks of fucking pity whenever Derek was staring adoringly at Stiles’ back before scowling the second he turned around. 

Dammit, he had no idea how he’d fallen so fucking hard for a spastic human who couldn’t leave things well enough alone. 

“Stiles, I _swear_ to God—”

Before Derek could come up with a colourful threat, the line clicked and he growled loudly. 

“Finally! I’ve been wandering around your stupid campus for an hour!” 

_“That explains why campus security is on high alert looking for a murderer in a leather jacket,”_ Stiles’ jovial voice teased.

Derek scowled, hating how much he fucking loved this moron. “I’m not _wearing_ my leather jacket. And I’d like to leave this damn place before nightfall so I don’t get home at two in the fucking morning. I have a job, Stiles. My life doesn’t revolve around you and your stupid problems.” 

_“Calm down, you can crash in the dorm with me,”_ Stiles insisted, the eye roll clear. _“Besides, if I’m right, and this thing is a Bukavac, it only hunts at night, so you’d have to stay late anyway.”_

Derek knew that. He’d looked the thing up the second Stiles had started rambling on about a six-legged creature with horns attacking students and animals on his campus. There was a huge lake smack-dab in the middle of the large area, and Bukavacs tended to live in lakes or even pools. Given the university also had three outdoor swimming pools and countless other indoor ones, _plus_ the lake, it made sense it was living the good life. 

But Derek had mostly focussed on the nocturnal aspect of the entire thing, because having it be nocturnal meant that he could spend the night. 

In Stiles’ room. 

With Stiles. 

It wouldn’t be the first time since Stiles had moved out there where Derek would stay the night with him, but every time he got to do it was another win for him. In a way, Derek almost wondered if he had some secret genie who magically kept putting nocturnal monsters on campus so that Derek _could_ spend the night. 

Not that he only came by when monsters were around, Stiles invited him out for random hangouts, too. And Derek showed up every now and then whenever he felt like he wasn’t imposing, though that was rare, since he always felt liked he was imposing. 

He hoped Stiles’ roommate was out, the guy was kind of an ass whenever Derek was around. Probably because he had the hots for Stiles which, Derek didn’t blame him. Who wouldn’t? How Scott had grown up _not_ wanting to jump him, Derek would never know.

Then again, McCall had _terrible_ taste in women. Not that Derek was one to talk, his taste in women was atrocious, but his taste in men? Fucking perfect. Because it was just Stiles. And Stiles was fucking _perfect_. 

Not that he’d ever tell _him_ that. 

“There a reason Scott isn’t helping with this?” Derek demanded, going for exasperated, even though he was always glad to get a phone call from Stiles. If he didn’t play the role though, Stiles would get suspicious. He was stupid, but not _that_ stupid. 

_“He’s got a midterm tomorrow, otherwise he’d be helping. Stop whining, I’m gonna feed your bottomless pit as payment. Just meet at my dorm, I’m heading back now.”_

Derek’s throat ached with how hard he held back the question he had. Stiles hadn’t been in class, he knew his schedule by heart. And he hadn’t been answering his phone. And he wasn’t in his dorm right now. So where _had_ he been? And who had he been with? 

He didn’t want to think about Stiles stopping by a friend’s dorm for a quickie while waiting on his Werewolf friend to show up. He really didn’t, but the image popped into his head anyway. Unwanted, unwelcome, and upsetting. 

“Hurry up,” Derek said instead, and hung up, turning to head back towards the dorms. 

His hands were clenching and unclenching as he went, brain going a mile a minute and offering him a lot of very suggestive images that he really didn’t want to be thinking about. Unfortunately for him, he’d seen Stiles naked a few times, so it was very easy to picture him pounding into some petite, faceless girl or getting pounded into by a huge, hulking football-player dude. He’d never seen Stiles’ face in the throes of passion, but he could picture it anyway, because Stiles was expressive in general. Wasn’t hard to picture. 

Derek hated him. He hated how much he loved him. 

Reaching the dorm, he leaned back against the brick facing outside the front door, crossing his arms and scowling at anyone who looked at him. A few girls were giggling and giving him appreciative looks, and some guys even gave him a once-over. He just tried to look as murderous as possible and hoped they’d go away. 

There was a lot of loud chatter going on around him, both from inside the dorm and outside it. People whining about classes and homework, others talking about parties coming up, how they could get some alcohol while underage, a few people discussing their recent sexual conquests. Derek forcibly tuned that out, because he didn’t want to accidentally hear anything about people from this dorm sleeping with _Stiles_. 

He quickly focussed in on what sounded like a conversation between two girls. They were talking about their homework assignment, not really discussing anything worthwhile, but he stayed tuned in on them anyway for lack of anything better to do. 

A few seconds passed, and then one of them sneezed loudly before making a sound of disgust. 

_“What’s up?”_ her friend asked. 

_“When I sneezed, blood just came gushing out from downstairs.”_

Wait, what? 

_“Gross, I hate when that happens. Seriously, any time your diaphragm does **anything** out of the ordinary, it’s like Niagara Falls between your legs.”_

Yeah, hard pass on this entire conversation! Derek didn’t need to be listening to this, and he tried to focus on another group of people, but the girls’ voices were practically imbedded in his brain now and no matter how hard he tried to focus on someone else, he could still hear them. 

_“Right? The worst is when you have a cold or something. Every time you cough, it’s like the floodgates have opened and blood just explodes out of you.”_

“Please God, why?” Derek demanded, clenching his eyes shut and wishing he could focus on someone else. _Anyone_ else! 

_“You use a pad? You should switch to a menstrual cup. It’s way better.”_

_“I looked into it once, but I read some reviews about it getting stuck. I couldn’t decide if it was hilarious or terrifying. I’d rather not find out and just order one of those weirdo period onesies I keep seeing flying around.”_

_“Those things are hideous.”_

_“But useful, apparently. Still, periods suck.”_

_“Hm. It’s not bad for sex, though.”_

_“You’re not supposed to have sex while you’re on your period.”_

_“Says who?”_

_“I don’t know, doctors?”_

_“What kind of doctor do you have? It’s totally fine to have sex while you’re on your period. It’s actually really good lubrication-wise. Max and I have sex when I’m bleeding all the time. It’s kind of messy, and you **definitely** need to put a towel down, but it’s totally safe.”_

“I am never going to unhear this conversation,” Derek said aloud to himself while the two girls continued discussing the pros and cons of having sex while menstruating. He felt like he was a bystander watching a car crash. He so badly wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He was _trying_ , but he just _couldn’t_! 

Finally, mercifully, someone walked past the girls’ door and Derek was able to latch onto the new conversation like a dying man finally finding a breath of air. He kind of wished he’d stuck to the menstruating girls, because what he heard wasn’t much better. 

_“—ee what Stilinski was wearing today? That **ass** , man. He’s fucking **fine**. I’d like to get him too drunk to remember his own **name**.” _

_“Good luck, you seen his best friend?”_

_“The little twink with the curly hair?”_

_“Naw dude, the big hulk of a guy who comes ‘round every now and then. Mean-looking, with a beard and RBF. Girls are all over him whenever he’s around, and he’s real protective. Pretty sure if you wanted to fuck Stiles, you’d have to make sure his friend’s not around or you’d get your teeth smashed in.”_

_“Whatever man, worth it to get to fuck that piece of ass. It’s probably tight as—”_

“What’s with the face?” 

Derek tensed, not having realized Stiles had appeared in front of him until he felt two fingers rubbing at the crease in his forehead. 

“You look like a serial killer, no wonder you keep getting arrested.” Stiles grinned. 

He looked so fucking good. His hair was longer and windswept, and his eyes were bright, and it almost looked like he had a bit of a tan, like he’d been spending more time outside lately, probably studying with some friends. His clothes weren’t as loose as they used to be, more fitted and flattering, and God Derek was so gone for him. 

“Hurry up, we’ve got work to do,” Derek snapped instead of telling him how fucking good he looked. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, muttered something about it being good to see him too, and then swiped his access card to open the door. He motioned Derek in with a flourish, then followed behind him. They headed up to the third floor, each one alternating between men and women. First and third were for men, second and fourth were for women. Derek had been by enough times that he knew exactly where Stiles’ room was. 

When they reached the third floor, people were milling about in the corridor, getting ready for class or chatting with friends while waiting on them to go and grab food. It was close to dinner time, so Derek was sure most people were getting ready to head out and hit up the various parties that seemed to exist across campuses on a nightly basis.

Derek had done his courses online, so he didn’t really have much to go on university-wise until he’d started coming by Stiles and Scott’s dorms. 

Well, not so much Scott’s, but he at least knew where it _was_.

Maybe. Pretty sure. 

“Yo Stilinski,” a familiar voice said, Derek’s hackles rising instantly. “We’re going out drinking later, you wanna come?” 

“Thanks man, but I got plans.” Stiles grinned, patting Derek’s back once while they walked past the two guys who’d been talking about him. The one who’d spoken was the one who’d said he’d love to get Stiles too drunk to remember his own name, and Derek gave him the most vicious look in his arsenal. “Big guy and I are gonna be killin’ monsters all night.” 

“Lame, video games can wait. Alcohol is fleeting for us under twenty-one folk!” the guy insisted at their backs. 

“Some other time, man! Raincheck, promise!” Stiles called back. 

They entered Stiles’ room, the door shutting, but Derek still heard the two guys outside talking, lowering their voices to not be overheard. Moot point when a Werewolf was involved. 

_“Guessing that’s the best friend?”_

_“Yeah. Surprised you’ve never seen him before. If he’s in town, you definitely want to steer clear. I thought he was going to turn you to ashes with that look you got just **talking** to Stiles.” _

_“Well, I can wait one day. I’m sure Stilinski’ll be down for drinks tomorrow.”_

Derek was going to call in sick for the rest of the fucking _week_. 

* * *

2\. People have too much free time.

Derek was convinced that Stiles was trying to kill him. That, or get him fired. Or arrested. Really, it was hard to tell with Stiles. 

Every time something bad happened, it always seemed to be in the middle of the week. Derek had already used up almost half of his vacation days, so he was definitely going to have to make sure he headed out at first light to make it to work on time tomorrow. He’d spend the night, because of course he would, but he’d also brought along a change of clothes and a towel so he could shower first thing and head out. He started work at nine, so as long as he was gone from campus by six-fifty at the latest, he’d make it to work on time. 

Sleep-deprived, he was sure, but Stiles had been surviving this life since he was in high school, so Derek felt like he could cut the guy some slack on that front. Derek had only started getting sleep-deprived the past few years trying to keep his idiot human alive. 

Walking up the stairs and into the library, he let out a sigh when he checked his phone again and didn’t see a response from Stiles. He’d gotten a call from him earlier that day, telling Derek that they had a Ghoul problem near their bus loop and that he and Scott needed some solid backup. Derek said he’d come by after work, and Stiles had told him to meet him in the library.

When he was about twenty minutes off-campus, Derek had texted to ask where he was in the library, and had as of yet not received a response. That meant Derek was going to have to hunt him down in the giant fucking building, and hope no one called campus security on him.

Stiles always insisted nobody would ever do that, but it had already happened _twice_! Stiles had just pissed himself laughing both times when he’d gone to pick him up and promised the guys that Derek was his best friend and he was totally safe and not a creeper.

Though that was usually followed up with a monologue of how Derek _was_ a creeper the whole way back to the dorm. He was never going to live down his first few weeks back in Beacon Hills, never. He was always going to be that stupid ‘CreeperWolf,’ as Stiles called him. 

He’d just been keeping an eye on Scott so he wouldn’t kill anyone! He wasn’t _trying_ to be creepy! 

Sighing while looking around, the first floor was pretty bare, which made sense since it was mostly the checkout and newspaper archives. He could see a few students flipping through large stacks of papers, along with some of the digitized ones, but no Stiles. 

Debating on heading up towards the other floors with books and desks, or down into the stacks with study rooms and non-loanable books, he decided to go up first, inhaling deeply to try and find Stiles. That proved to be futile since all he smelled was books and stress. There was a faint hint of Stiles, but it was kind of all over the place, like he’d gone up and down a few times.

Knowing Stiles, that was entirely likely, given he wasn’t exactly one to sit still for long. So Derek just started up the steps to the second level, tilting his head and keeping his ears peeled for any sounds he recognized. He had Stiles’ voice memorized, after all, so it wasn’t like it would be difficult to pin him down. 

He made a wide loop around the second floor, looking in at all the individual study cubbies to see if Stiles was there, but so far, nothing. He was moving up to the third floor, still trying to listen for Stiles’ voice, when another loud voice met his ears from what seemed to be the fourth floor. 

_“Dude! Oh my God, you’ll never believe what I just found! Check this out!”_

_“Oh, gross, what the fuck is that?”_ another voice demanded, sounding both disgusted and amused at the same time. 

_“That’s a duck’s **dick** , my man! Look at this shit! It just... keeps fucking going!”_

_“Gnarly. Oh dude, have you seen a pig’s dick? Those things are fucking **weird** , man!” _

_“I heard they were like, corkscrews or something.”_

_“Yeah! They totally are! They’re fucking **gross** , check it out!”_

_“Oh God, no. That’s so **disgusting**! Hey, have you ever seen a dolphin’s penis?”_

“What is wrong with this school?” Derek demanded, standing motionless on the stairs between the second and third floor. He’d rather be back listening to the girls talk about having sex while on their period. Why had that first guy even been looking up duck penises? And why did the second guy immediately ask if he’d ever seen a pig’s?! _And why were they now Googling dolphin dicks?!_

Had people always been this weird? Maybe Derek was too used to Beacon Hills, with its small town mentality and people’s boring conversations. Shit, even when he and Laura had been living in New York things hadn’t been this bad. Mostly people talking about their next drug fix or who they were cheating on and whatever. But apparently when people were in university, they had weird conversations like having sex while bleeding out the hoo-hah and what various animals’ dicks looked like. 

Derek kind of wanted to turn around and leave, because he didn’t have the brain capacity to be dealing with these kinds of conversations, _especially_ since they’d now moved on to camel dick. Like, _why_?! Why were they looking up dicks?! If it was for school, for one of their classes, sure, he could understand. But it very clearly _wasn’t_! 

_Just find Stiles,_ he said to himself, continuing on up the stairs. _Just find Stiles, and leave the library._

He only made it halfway around the third floor before the conversation above him became too much for him and he headed back down. He’d check the stacks instead. And if Stiles wasn’t there, he’d go to the Starbucks on the corner and text him until he got a response. He didn’t have the brain capacity to listen to two neanderthals talk about animal dicks. 

Derek went down to the first level of the stacks, knowing there were two even though he’d never been down that far. He wandered around on the first level, glancing briefly into various large study rooms and trying not to make himself look suspicious. He’d rounded the last corner back to the stairs when he finally caught his scent. It was just as old as the one from upstairs, but Derek followed it to one of the cubbies on the opposite side of the stairs he’d started on, and sure enough, he found Stiles. 

“Well that explains the lack of answer,” he said with a sigh, staring down at him. 

Stiles had noise cancelling headphones on that were half-off his ears and completely silent, like he’d only been wearing them to block out noise or because his phone’s battery had died. He had one cheek pressed against his notebook, three large textbooks open around him, and was drooling all over his notes. One hand held a pen loosely, the item having dipped because of his slumber, and the other was clenched tightly around his phone. 

Derek wanted to be pissed at him for leaving himself open to attack like this, but he was in the library and there were people everywhere. Even the girl a few cubbies down had paused in what she was doing, eying Derek warily like she was going to scream if he did something to Stiles. 

Ignoring her, Derek bent down beside his friend, reaching out one hand to touch his shoulder before pausing. 

Stiles looked so at peace when he slept. It was a far cry from how he’d been a few years ago, following the Nogitsune. It was kind of a relief to see him resting like this. It wasn’t the first time, since Derek had spent many nights on Stiles’ floor, both at his house and in the dorm, but it always made him feel a little relieved to know Stiles was doing okay. 

Peter biting Scott hadn’t completely fucked him up. It was a near thing, but Stiles was stubborn and doing exceptionally well. Derek was glad. 

His hand was still hovering by his shoulder, and he shifted it to reach up and brush his fingers gently though Stiles’ hair. It was soft, though getting a little long. He’d have to cut it before he started growing a fucking mullet. 

Though Derek would still love him, mullet and all. 

“What are you doing?” 

Derek jerked back to his feet and Stiles let out a loud snort while he sat up, rubbing at his face. Derek turned to see the girl standing behind him, arms crossed defensively and shoulders hunched, like she was scared of him, but not _so_ scared that she was gonna let some rando touch a sleeping student. 

“Waking him up,” Derek said as Stiles shifted behind him, pulling his headphones off and mumbling about his notes, since his drool had made some of the words run. 

The girl eyed him warily for a second, then shifted her gaze to Stiles. Evidently, he didn’t seem concerned, because she relaxed a little, nodded once, then turned to head back to her own cubby. Honestly, Derek was kind of glad she’d come over to say something. It meant if someone _else_ had done this to Stiles, she would’ve reacted the same way.

Derek felt someone tugging at his jacket and turned his head to look at Stiles. His eyes were bleary and sleep-filled, his hair was mussed on one side, and he had blue ink across one cheek in straight lines of text, evidently from the notebook he’d been sleeping on. 

“Sorry, fell asleep. You looking for me long?” 

“No,” Derek lied. “You smell, sniffed you out in seconds.” 

Stiles frowned in confusion, then lifted one arm to sniff himself. Derek almost rolled his eyes, but refrained, only because Stiles made a face, like he could understand where Derek was coming from. 

He had no idea what Stiles smelled, because to Derek, he didn’t smell any different from normal. His generic brand of soap, his deodorant that was just past expiry for the day, a little bit of BO and coffee. It was what Stiles always smelled like. 

“Let’s grab some food.” Stiles started packing away his things, still looking half asleep but ready to go. “We should talk about our game plan for tonight anyway.” 

“You have ink all over your face,” Derek informed him flatly. 

Stiles turned to him, confused, then reached up to rub at his face. It only succeeded in smearing ink across his cheek and he muttered that he’d be right back, turning to head for one of the bathrooms. Derek moved to finish gathering up all of Stiles’ things, shoving his phone into his own pocket since Stiles had just _left it_ there, and closing up all the textbooks. He made sure none of them belonged to the library before putting them all in Stiles’ bag, then put his headphones into their protective case and added that in as well. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, he waited for Stiles to get back, but caught sight of the girl again. 

She wasn’t looking anymore, focussed on her own work, and he hesitated before moving over to her. She glanced up when she noticed him approach, looking a little nervous, but he just tried for his best smile and saw her relax a fraction of a percentage. 

“I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for looking out for that guy. He’s always getting into trouble, and I think it’s nice that you came over to say something in case I was just some random person trying to steal his headphones.” 

“Oh.” She looked startled, then smiled. “No problem. Glad you weren’t offended.” 

“I think taking care of each other is important,” he admitted. “Thanks for looking out for other people.” 

She smiled at him and he gave her another winning smile before raising one hand in parting and moving back over to the cubby Stiles had been sitting at. He emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, the front of his shirt damp and his cheek red from how hard he’d been scrubbing at it. 

“Tacos?” he asked Derek, reaching for his bag. Derek handed it over, along with his cell phone, and shrugged, not really feeling anything in particular for dinner. “Tacos,” Stiles said again, more definitively. 

Derek swept one hand towards the stairs and Stiles headed for them, rubbing at his face and groaning, clearly still wishing he was asleep. 

He definitely _didn’t_ use this opportunity to stare at Stiles’ ass while they climbed back up the stairs. 

* * *

3\. Derek can never have a protein shake again.

“Why can we never just meet at the dorm?” Derek demanded, texting angrily while wandering aimlessly across campus. “Why is it always somewhere I either can’t find, or somewhere I have to look for you? Why can’t we just set a time, and meet at the dorm?” 

Realistically, he knew the reason Stiles didn’t like Derek meeting him at the dorm was because those were the two times campus security had been called on him. He’d looked like a ‘bad boy’ loitering so Stiles had decided having Derek wander around made him look less suspicious since he could be anyone from a student trying to find his next course, to an older brother hunting down their sibling to make sure they were actually attending classes. 

He appreciated that Stiles didn’t want him to get taken away by campus security, but it was frustrating that every time Derek showed up on campus, Stiles’ phone magically wasn’t super-glued to his hand. Derek had been texting him for close to ten minutes, and he was getting fucking hungry. 

“I swear to God, Stiles, if you don’t reply to me soon, I’m going to fucking _eat you_ ,” he snarled at his phone, texting those exact words to his friend. 

And it wouldn’t even be a hardship to eat Stiles. Derek would love to eat Stiles. In a purely sexual way, of course, since he wasn’t a cannibal. 

He forced the thought away, since he didn’t need to be picturing himself between Stiles’ legs, the other man moaning and arching his back while fisting Derek’s hair and—great, now he was picturing it. And _wow_ , was it ever a good picture. Damn. 

Sighing and rubbing at his eyes, he wished he could go back to the easy days. He didn’t remember when those days _were_ , but he knew they existed. The good old days where he’d hated Stiles. Back before he’d saved Derek’s life a million times and actually became someone Derek cared about. 

Things had been a lot less complicated when he wasn’t in love with him. 

Sighing and shoving his phone back into his pocket, Derek looked around and eventually headed towards a set of benches on the edge of a large open space. It looked like some kind of park, or at least, an area of greenery where people probably hung out to study and tan when the weather was nicer. 

It wasn’t exactly poor weather right now, but it was a little overcast so there weren’t many people out and about. It had also rained recently, so the ground was a bit muddy. Even the bench Derek approached was a little damp, but water wouldn’t hurt him so he just planted his ass on the bench and rubbed at his face, leaning back against it with a sigh. 

He was starting to wonder if this campus had the same kind of bullshit power source as Beacon Hills, because it seemed to have just as many monsters show up as their home did. They had the Nemeton to blame for all the crap they had to put up with, so maybe the campus had its own Nemeton.

Then again, maybe it was Scott and Stiles. Things had calmed down quite a bit since they’d headed off to university, and suddenly the monsters kept coming wherever they were. Maybe it was them. Maybe they were monster magnets. 

Just his luck. He fell for a guy, and instead of being evil, he was just a magnet for trouble. 

Well, better than evil, he supposed. 

Still, Derek didn’t even know what a fucking Jorogumo _was_. He’d had to look it up in the digital beastiary Stiles had created and sent to the whole pack just to understand what he was supposed to be helping him and Scott fight. 

Of course, it was nocturnal, because when wasn’t it? Apparently it was some giant spider demon that disguised itself as a beautiful woman to lure in its victims. Stiles had spent two weeks trying to figure out why only men were disappearing and being found a day later with all the blood drained from their bodies.

Lots of baddies were like that, so even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he was right. Derek knew he was though, Stiles always was. 

He pulled his phone back out after sitting there for ten minutes doing nothing, and saw he still didn’t have a response from Stiles. He sent a very heated message about his various internal organs and then opened one of his many games to try and pass the time. 

Derek tried really hard to ignore why Stiles might not be replying. Every time he didn’t respond when Derek knew he _wasn’t_ in class, he panicked that maybe Stiles was out having sex with someone. Which he was allowed to, of course, but he really, _really_ didn’t like thinking about that. It never seemed to be the case though, because Stiles never _smelled_ like sex when he eventually surfaced. 

Most of the time he was somewhere passed out because he didn’t get enough sleep at night. Sometimes he was in a study group with people, or even office hours. Once he’d been goaded into a hot dog eating contest. It was never usually sex, or danger. It was always something perfectly _normal_ , but Derek still immediately worried it was sex. 

Hilariously, he worried about it being sex far more than Stiles being in danger. He attributed that mostly to knowing that Stiles could take care of himself, so really, if a big bad was going to go after him, it was their funeral. 

He was in the middle of trying to beat a random level in one of his puzzle games when two girls started walking across the green a good few feet from him. A normal person wouldn’t have overheard their conversation, especially since they weren’t speaking very loudly, but Derek had the unfortunate pleasure of being a Werewolf and he paused in what he was playing when their words met his ears.

Unfortunately. 

_“—otally worthwhile. I mean, I’ve never felt better, this liquid cleanse diet is just doing wonders for my health!”_

_“I’ve tried them before, I just don’t like them. You have to pee **all** the time, and most of the time it smells fucking weird.” _

_“Oh my God, I **know**! It’s definitely one of the downsides, but like, just hold your breath while you’re peeing and it’s not so bad. Honestly, I feel so good having started this cleanse, it’s totally worth it.” _

_“I don’t know, Jake already doesn’t go down on me much as it is. If my piss starts smelling bad, it’ll make everything in that region smell bad and he’ll find excuses **not** to go down on me.”_

_“I know it’s cliche, but pineapple juice, Sarah. Seriously, that stuff makes your vagina smell like a fucking rosegarden.”_

“I hate this place,” Derek said aloud. Could he not just sit on this bench and enjoy his puzzle game without being subjected to girls talking about what their pee smelled like because of this liquid cleanse diet they were on? Derek didn’t smell his pee every time he had a protein shake. Was smelling pee a thing girls did? 

And why were they so chill about these kinds of conversations? There was that one period conversation a few weeks back, and now this? He couldn’t imagine Lydia having a conversation like this. Malia, sure, but not Lydia. And now he was wondering if Lydia _did_ have conversations like this and he just didn’t know. 

The girls were still talking about it while they finished crossing the green and Derek really hated coming to this place. Why couldn’t people have normal conversations? Like how many marshmallows they could fit into their mouth, or where to bury a body. Normal things. 

Really, Stiles was lucky Derek was in love with him and would literally walk through fire for him, because having to come here and listen to all these bullshit, scarring conversations was starting to wear on his psyche. 

He’d actually gone home to look up duck dick the last time he’d been out here. Literally! It had been bugging him the entire night he’d spent in Stiles’ dorm, and when he got home the following day after work, it was too much and he _had_ to know. And now he could never _un_ know! This place was cursed! 

It was fucking _cursed_! 

His phone rang and he stared down at it, an old picture of him and Stiles flashing on the screen. Trying to dispel thoughts of women’s pee smelling like a rosegarden, Derek answered the call and put it to his ear. 

“This is getting tiresome, can’t you pretend you lost your key and give me a spare?” 

_“They’d deactivate my pass the second I said I lost it.”_

Derek sighed explosively, rubbing at his face with one hand. “Where are you? I need food, and I’m sick of this stupid campus.” 

_“We can go off campus for a bite, if you want. Scott’s busy, but he can meet us after so we can plan and talk about what we wanna do.”_

“Meet me at your dorm, we can head for the Camaro from there.”

_“Sounds good. See you in a bit.”_

Derek hung up, sighing again and rubbing at his face once more. Stiles Stilinski was going to be the death of him in so many fucking ways. 

He couldn’t wait for him to graduate and come home, so he could go back to sneaking through his bedroom window whenever he wanted. 

Or better yet, have him in bed beside him. Wishful thinking, but Derek was nothing if not a masochist who liked to torture himself. 

Waiting a few more seconds to get his thoughts under control, Derek stood and started for Stiles’ dorm, determined _not_ to ask him where he’d been and why he hadn’t been answering his text messages. 

He wasn’t Derek’s boyfriend. He didn’t owe him any explanations.

Even if Derek really, _really_ wanted them. 

* * *

4\. Derek wasn’t letting anyone near his sperm no matter how broke he was.

Derek slouched in his seat while scowling down at his phone, listening to all the various students around him bitch about life. It was midterms, and most people in the Starbucks he’d been sitting in for the past thirty minutes were all studying feverishly or typing away desperately on their laptops, clearly trying to get some last minute paper out before it was due in the next ten minutes. 

He’d already witnessed two breakdowns, and one very heated argument between a group doing some kind of project. He did _not_ miss school, that was for damn sure. 

Stiles had asked him to drop by for the weekend. Surprisingly, not for any monsters, but just to hang out. They did that sometimes. Stiles would just call him and ask him to come by so they could chill. Sometimes Scott was with them, sometimes not. Usually the roommate wasn’t either. It was actually kind of nice. He liked spending quiet time with Stiles when there wasn’t something trying to kill them.

Well, not exactly _quiet_ time, since Stiles couldn’t _do_ quiet, but either way. Derek liked the time they spent together. And he really liked that Stiles invited him. It made his little doubts and insecurities get knocked back to the dark recesses of his mind. 

He still sometimes had random moments where he felt like people were using him. Either his knowledge, or his strength, or any other number of things. Courtesy of Kate and her manipulation. Stiles had always been good about shoving those thoughts back, and it was moments like this, when Stiles didn’t _need_ him but invited him around anyway, that he was reminded of the fact that he _had_ friends. Even in Beacon Hills, he went out with the guys from work, he hung out with Parrish, he had dinner with the sheriff once a week, he _did things_ with people. He had friends, and they weren’t looking to get something out of him. 

He always felt like Stiles was the one who reminded him of that fact the most. He would never, ever stop owing Stiles Stilinski.

He’d never stop loving him, either. 

Derek was still scrolling through Reddit on his phone—contrary to what Stiles believed, Derek _did_ know nerdy things—when his messages pinged with a new one from Stiles. 

It happily proclaimed he’d just aced his midterm. Derek texted back a thumbs up, because honestly, he wasn’t surprised. Stiles didn’t have his grade yet, obviously, since he’d literally _just_ taken it, but he was smart so Derek knew he’d aced it. 

When Stiles said they could meet at the dorm before he headed to the small store on campus to grab some stuff, Derek just said he could meet him there with the Camaro instead, that way Stiles could stock up and they could drive back to the dorm. It also meant Stiles wouldn’t have to backtrack since he was closer to the store than his dorm. 

He got a bunch of hearts in response to that, which he took as an affirmative, and rolled his eyes before shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

Heading out of the Starbucks after tossing his cup in the trash, he went back to where he always parked the Camaro when he visited and climbed behind the wheel, driving towards the store that was kind of in a hub near the edge of campus. It had a few different necessities, including a small clinic, a bakery, a stationary store, a tiny travel agency and a few popular fast food joints on top of the small store. 

It also had limited parking, which worked out well for Derek since rarely anyone drove on campus and he got a spot right away. Climbing out of the Camaro, he texted to let Stiles know he was there and asked if he wanted him to get started on grabbing things.

No response, but he figured this time was because Stiles was hoofing it to the store so Derek wasn’t waiting too long. The class he’d had the midterm in wasn’t far, so he’d likely show up in no time. 

Since he didn’t know what he needed to grab for him, Derek just sat down on the hood of the Camaro and pulled Reddit up again, continuing to scroll through it. He could hear the various conversations happening from the people milling about, along with those inside the stores, but he tried not to focus on them too much considering his track record in this place. 

He’d just found a particularly funny post about the worst things to happen on Valentine’s day as told by servers at restaurants when two guys carrying an obscene amount of ramen packets passed by his Camaro, in the middle of a conversation. 

Derek did his best not to listen, but unfortunately, it was really, _really_ hard not to listen when something completely horrendous decided to invade his ears. 

_“—owe you so much, dude! It’s seriously the easiest way to make money! I just made a hundred bucks!”_

_“Nice,”_ his friend said, sounding thrilled. _“Dude, who’d have thought selling your own sperm would pay off?”_

Derek paused in his reading. 

What? 

_“Right? Easiest way to make money I’ve ever encountered. And I mean, the fap material they provide is top tier. They really want them swimmers at that place.”_

_“Oh man, I’ll be straight with you, I totally took one of those magazines home. Fucking gold. I can basically unload all the sperm they want just **thinking** about that one magazine! The tits on the centerfold, I’d love to unload all over her, that’s for sure.”_

_“How much we up, anyway? We must be close by now. Tickets were like, five hundred each, right?”_

_“Yeah man, like, maybe three hundred more bucks. I’m gonna go back tomorrow, rub off another one, give them some more sperm and be rolling in cash.”_

“This place is hell,” Derek decided. “This place is absolutely hell.” 

How was it possible he’d gone so many years of his life without hearing anything nearly as over the top as he had just visiting Stiles at school? This had to be some kind of record for the most disgusting things he’d ever overheard. 

Like, he had no problems with the guys selling their sperm, that was their prerogative. But why were they advertising it so loudly while walking past people?! At least the girls talking about piss and periods had been in places where no one else _should_ have heard them, Derek just happened to be _able_ to. 

Had people been like this during his time at school too? Was University somehow that one moment in life where people just spoke about the most disgusting things they could without fear of judgement? Had Derek missed some kind of rite of passage where he was supposed to be talking about pee smelling weird, selling his sperm, and comparing what different animals’ dicks looked like?

“What’s with the face?” 

Derek tensed, having missed Stiles appearing beside him until he got flicked in the ear. He turned to scowl at him, but Stiles was practised at the look by now, so he just grinned at him while walking backwards towards the store, almost tripping on the curb before catching himself. 

“What’s wrong with your school?” Derek asked, sliding off the hood and following after Stiles, holding the door open when the other man headed inside. Stiles grabbed a basket from the front, and Derek worried about how much he was about to buy given he knew Stiles was still tight on money.

Maybe he should buy some of the items. Wasn’t like Derek was hurting for money, he lived in a paid off loft, still had a bit of funds from his parent’s life insurance policy, _and_ had a job. He wasn’t _rich_ , by any stretch, but he had a lot more money than Stiles and his dad did. 

They’d only just turned down the first aisle, Stiles grabbing some toothpaste off the closest shelf when someone called out to him. Derek turned at the same time as Stiles, some guy he’d never met before jogging over from the door, brilliant smile on his face. He cast a brief glance at Derek, but dismissed him easily. 

Derek didn’t mind, he wasn’t interested in knowing any of Stiles’ friends. A few people he’d met just in passing, but Stiles had been pretty open his first visit about how he wasn’t planning on staying in touch with any of these people, so they weren’t important enough to bother introducing to Derek. Unless they were Supernatural, Stiles deemed them temporary friends. 

Besides, Derek knew Stiles was like a people magnet, he probably had so many friends he didn’t remember all their names. He remembered Derek’s, and that was what was most important to him. 

“Hey man, what’s up?” Stiles asked with a small grin, slapping the other guy in the arm when he was within range. “How was the midterm?” 

“Bombed it so hard, but whatever.” The guy shrugged, cast another glance at Derek, then said, “Hey, we’re all going out tonight. Grabbing a few drinks, maybe see if we can get into a club later. You should come.” 

“Sorry, I got plans.” Stiles thumbed at Derek. “Big guy and I are watching trash all weekend, as well as eating it.” 

“He can come too,” Stiles’ friend insisted without even looking at Derek. 

“Not his scene. Hey, maybe next time, okay?” Stiles slapped the guy in the arm again, offered another smile, said he’d see him on Monday, then nudged at Derek so they could keep walking down the aisle. 

His friend shrugged and disappeared around the corner, evidently going to grab something from another aisle. 

Derek listened to him shuffle around, bags crinkling and muttering under his breath. When the guy finally paid and left, Stiles still strolling through the aisles cheerfully, humming to himself, Derek touched his arm lightly. 

Stiles turned to him, big brown eyes so open and fucking gorgeous that Derek almost forgot what he’d been planning on saying. 

“We can go. If you want.” 

“Go where?” Stiles asked. 

“The party. The club or whatever.” Derek motioned behind himself at the window, where Stiles’ friend was probably still walking away. “I don’t mind if you want to go out.” 

He _did_ mind. A lot. But he didn’t want Stiles to feel like he was missing out on something because of his presence, so he forced the words out. 

“What?” Stiles scoffed, punching him in the shoulder. “No way you’re getting rid of me _that_ easily. I can go to parties on campus any day of the week. A weekend of Derek Hale forced to watch my favourite movies and eat crap while sleeping on my dorm floor is fleeting. You’re not getting out of watching _Princess Bride_ with me tonight, but nice try.” 

“I’m serious,” Derek insisted, rolling his eyes at Stiles’ insistence that he was a heathen for never having seen that stupid movie. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything.” 

Stiles paused, searching his face. Derek had no idea what he was looking for, but he evidently found it, because he just smiled almost softly and punched him in the shoulder again. 

“Thanks Derek, but I’m serious, too. I’d rather spend the weekend with you in the room watching movies. Really.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to emphasize his point. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week. So unless _you_ want to go get not-drunk with a bunch of idiot university dumbasses, which I highly doubt, we’re not changing our plans.” 

“I definitely don’t want to get not-drunk with idiots.” He paused, tilting his head. “Except you, but you can get drunk in the dorm where I don’t have to carry you back.” 

“That was one time, and you _loved_ it, admit it,” Stiles insisted, walking backwards while pointing one finger at Derek. He almost knocked over an end-cap, flailing to keep it upright even as a few bags of chips fell off it. He hastily picked them back up, though dropped one of them into his basket before straightening. “Come on, pick out some snacks, I don’t want a repeat of last time where you didn’t get anything you wanted and ended up eating all of mine. And we’re ordering Indian tonight, I’m sick of Chinese food!” 

Derek couldn’t help the endearing smile that crossed his features while he rounded the end to follow Stiles down the next aisle, thinking back on the last time he’d carried his drunk ass home. 

He’d never say so aloud, but he’d most _definitely_ loved it, because Stiles was a clingy drunk, and there was nothing like a cuddling Stiles to make everything about his shitty life feel so much better. 

* * *

5\. Why do people want to kill themselves for fun?

Derek didn’t know if he was trying to torture himself, or if he just had no self-respect left, because honestly, it was a fine line between the two. 

Stiles had invited him out for another weekend of movies, which had been derailed when a random Poltergeist had started attacking students in the Chemistry building. It had been dealt with relatively quickly, considering how hard Poltergeists were to get rid of, but it also meant their weekend was shot. 

Derek didn’t mind, he’d still spent time with Stiles, even if most of that time consisted of the moron screaming and running down dark corridors, swinging his bat at nothing like an idiot. Derek sometimes didn’t know how he was still alive, but at the same time, knew that the rest of the pack never would’ve survived without him. It was a somewhat confusing dynamic. 

Still, that meant Derek had been forced to head back without much movie-watching having occurred, which was why Stiles had texted him to ask when his next day off was. When Derek had replied, Stiles had told him to come by the night before and they could catch up on the weekend movies since he only had the one class the next day.

And that was how Derek found himself back in Stiles’ room, except said individual had left almost an hour ago for class and Derek had taken the opportunity to lie down on his bed. He would argue with Stiles that he’d done it because it was more comfortable, but really, the floor wasn’t actually that bad given the carpet and bean bags Stiles had. 

No, the real reason he was lying in Stiles’ bed was because the smell was overwhelming here. He missed having Stiles’ scent in his space. Missed walking into the loft and knowing immediately that Stiles was there—or had at least _been_ there recently. He kind of felt like a drug addict, lying face-first on Stiles’ bed, eyes closed like he was napping when all he was really doing was trying to savour this moment. 

It also helped get some of Stiles’ scent onto Derek’s clothes, which made him feel a little less alone once he got home, two hours away from Stiles. And he wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t like the combined scents of him and Stiles on the bedspread. 

He wasn’t being creepy about it though! He didn’t touch himself or think ‘impure thoughts’ or anything. He just... liked the smell of Stiles. It made him feel calm. At ease. 

Stiles smelled like home. And he missed him. A lot. 

Probably why he visited so much, though he knew the feeling was mutual, since Stiles was always the one inviting him out. Not that Derek necessarily waited for an invitation, but it was nice knowing Stiles missed him, too. 

He was still lying on the bed, inhaling Stiles’ scent, when he heard movement in the corridor. People had been getting up and shuffling to the bathroom all morning, and Derek was sure this was the last of the late risers, given it was almost noon. As soon as Stiles got back from class, they were going out to grab some food and coming back to watch a few movies before Derek headed home. He had work in the morning, so as much as he wanted to stay for more than just one night, he really couldn’t. 

Emergencies only, otherwise he needed to go home. 

He was still lying comfortably on Stiles’ bedspread when he heard a horrified shout from down the corridor and jerked up. He felt his eyes burn but he didn’t fully shift, propped up on his elbows and head tilted while he listened to determine if it was a threat or not. 

_“What?”_ a guy asked, sounding half-asleep. _“What happened? Josh?”_

_“Note to self: open eyes **before** stepping foot into the fucking shower. Fucking sick man.”_

_“Oh.”_ There was a somewhat sleepy chuckle, presumably from the first voice who’d spoken. _“Gross. Someone really needed to puke. Guess they got confused between the shower and the toilets.”_

 _“I fucking **stepped** in it! Like, it would’ve taken two fucking seconds to turn on the God damn water. Fuck.”_ It sounded like Josh was having a terrible morning.

Not Derek’s problem though. No one was being mauled by a Chupacabra or whatever so not in his wheelhouse. He lay back down, burying his face in Stiles’ pillow and trying to suffocate himself in the scent of home. 

_“Oh sick, check it out. They obviously had noodles for dinner.”_

_“What the fuck, why are you **touching** it?!” _

_“I dare you to eat this.”_

Derek was positive his calm, happy mood was about to be shattered in the worst possible way. 

Because of course it was. Stiles’ school was fucking horrible. Of course he was going to be stuck listening to something that made him want to gag. 

_“No fucking way! What the fuck, Kyle!”_

_“I’ll pay you a hundred bucks.”_

_“You don’t **have** a hundred bucks, you’re poor as shit.”_

_“Oh come on, what’s the harm?”_

_“Uh, pretty sure there’s a lot of harm. One, someone threw that up. Two, it was on the floor of a shower stall in a men’s bathroom.”_

_“It was on the wall, less gross.”_ A short pause, where Derek was so, _so_ hopeful this awful conversation was behind him. Please, _please_ God let this conversation be behind him. _“I’ll do it if you give me something.”_

“Why?” Derek groaned pitifully into Stiles’ pillow, grabbing the edges and curling it up around his ears, despite knowing it was futile. He still heard the answer loud and fucking clear. 

_“Are you serious? You know that’s super unhygienic right?”_

_“Come **on** , Josh. Live a little.”_ A light smack, like he’d hit his friend in the arm. _“If you won’t eat it for a hundred bucks, I’ll eat it for your copy of the remastered Halo Reach.”_

“Don’t do it, Josh,” Derek muttered into the pillow. “Don’t take the deal, Josh.” 

For a long moment, there was silence, and Derek was hopeful that Josh’s comment about hygiene would win out.

No _fucking_ dice. 

_“You need to eat the noddle **and** whatever gross piece of meat that is right there. Do that, and I’ll give it to you.”_

_“Deal!”_

“Why do you hate me?” Derek demanded of nobody. “Haven’t I suffered enough? Why are you torturing me like this?” 

The situation wasn’t made at _all_ better when Josh ended up recording the entire thing, making loud noises of disgust. Kyle _did_ get the noddle and meat down, but Derek wasn’t sure if the deal held because he threw up quite loudly moments later. 

The splash of it sounded like he’d at least made it to a toilet for his vomit instead of a shower stall, so Derek supposed he should be grateful he wasn’t going to walk in there later to puke all over the floor. 

Josh was laughing hysterically, evidently no longer worried about the prospect of Kyle dying a horrible death at the hands of regurgitated food. 

Derek didn’t want to be here anymore. This place was the worst. How many more years before Stiles graduated? Two? No, just one. Oh God, he still had _one_. Fucking hell, Derek couldn’t deal with this place anymore. 

He practically propelled himself off the bed when bouncy footsteps and a familiar heartbeat sounded from down the corridor. Striding to the door, he wrenched it open and stood in the corridor, Stiles making his way quickly towards his room. He smiled brightly at the sight of Derek, but the expression faltered slightly when he got a good look at his face. 

“We need to leave this building right now,” Derek informed him. 

“What is it?” Stiles demanded, hurrying forward until he was right in Derek’s personal space. “Is something here? Are we in trouble? I have my bat in the closet.” 

“No,” Derek said, ushering Stiles into his room so he could put his books down. The sooner he unloaded his class notes, the faster they could escape. “Your university is fucked up.” 

“How so?” Stiles asked, though he seemed less tense now that he knew they weren’t in any danger. He was still kind enough to drop his things quickly and then switch out his lighter sweater for his preferred hoodie, patting all his pockets to make sure he had everything. 

“Two guys just dared each other to eat vomit out of a shower stall.”

“What?!” Stiles demanded, whipping around to look at him. “Who? Did they record it? Are they still there?” Stiles started to rush past him but Derek grabbed the back of his hood, forcing him to stop before he made it too far out the still-open door. 

“What is wrong with you people?” Derek demanded. 

“We’re stressed and sleep-deprived, we do dumb shit.” 

“You’ve been stressed and sleep-deprived since you were sixteen, and I’ve never seen you dare Scott to eat vomit,” Derek argued. 

“True,” Stiles admitted. “But I _did_ dare him to eat five pizzas in an hour.” His expression fell. “Those were dark times, Derek. Really dark times.” 

“You’re an idiot.” Derek released him now that he was sure Stiles wasn’t going to run check on the grossness happening in the bathroom. “We’re leaving before your stupidity becomes permanent.” 

“Too late,” Stiles sing-songed, allowing Derek to shut his bedroom door, the lock engaged from the inside. “Also, it’s contagious.” 

“Must be why I’m down to my last braincell, I need to stop hanging out with you.” 

Stiles laughed and punched him in the arm, asking when he’d gotten a sense of humour. Derek deadpanned that he wasn’t joking, and that just made Stiles laugh harder. Hearing him so happy and carefree made warmth spread through Derek’s chest, and he couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his features. 

His eyes followed Stiles’ wild gestures while he recounted a story that had happened in his class that day, and Derek really couldn’t help but wish things had turned out differently between them. It had taken them so long to become friends, and Derek felt like he’d wasted so much time with Stiles. 

It wasn’t like he was going to be around for much longer, after all. Stiles was going to find someone soon—with a face like that, and a great personality, it was a wonder he was still single—and once he _had_ someone, well, room for Derek in his life would diminish greatly. 

No more weekend movie nights. No more random sleep-overs after fighting monsters. No more crashing at Derek’s when he was home in the summer and too lazy to drive home after vegging on his couch all day. 

Stiles would have someone to spend time with, and while Derek knew he’d still make time for him, Stiles was going to have to prioritize his relationship if he hoped for it to work out. Derek had to take all the time with him he could get. 

“You’ve been bitching about campus a lot lately,” Stiles said, squinting at Derek over the roof of the Camaro while waiting for the door to be unlocked. “Didn’t you say something last month about people being gross, too?” 

“Super-hearing is most definitely a curse,” Derek informed him, pulling open his door and sliding behind the wheel. Stiles followed suit a second later, wiggling slightly to get comfortable before putting on his seatbelt. It was probably the most adorable thing Derek had ever seen. 

“Yeah, Scott bitches about it sometimes, too. He says he hears too many people having sex, but I mean, he’s just jealous they’re getting some while he isn’t.” Stiles turned to waggle his eyebrows at him. 

Derek resolutely did _not_ look at Stiles while he started the car and backed out of his parking spot, trying for nonchalant when he turned them around and said, “You been rubbing your sexual exploits in his face, then?” 

“Who, me?” Stiles demanded, going for innocent. “I don’t kiss and tell.” He winked saucily, laughed, then leaned back further in his seat, putting one foot up on the dash. “Nah, but seriously, I don’t see the point in random hookups. If I’m gonna be with someone, it’s gonna be _with_ them, you know? And I’m not—well, no one on campus interests me.”

Derek hadn’t realized he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly until he loosened his grip and colour returned to his fingers. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Derek said, hoping he sounded as uninterested as he was going for.

Because he wasn’t uninterested. 

He was very, _very_ interested. Because Stiles hadn’t slept with anyone at university. And he wasn’t interested in anyone. That meant Derek—well, he had time, at any rate. Time with Stiles before he lost him to some bimbo with an annoying laugh or some unfairly attractive asshole who could bench-press his Jeep. 

_Derek_ was unfairly attractive _and_ could bench-press the Jeep, so that was just angering that it couldn’t be him. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said. He paused for barely a second, like he was debating something, then added, “We can’t all be sex machines like Derek Hale!” 

“I’m not a sex machine,” Derek insisted with an aggrieved sigh. 

“Oh yeah? How many hearts you break this year? Four? Five? Twenty? Eighty?” 

Derek gave him an annoyed look while easing to a stop at a light. Stiles was still grinning, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Derek figured he was still sore about the fact that Derek kept sleeping with women who ended up trying to kill him. Or the pack. 

“Not that I owe you any insight on my sexual life,” Derek began.

“But?” Stiles cut in excitedly, like this was the bread and butter of his entire day. 

“ _But_ ,” Derek conceded, “I haven’t—it’s been a pretty dry couple of years, all right?” 

“Oh ho, do tell.” Stiles was still grinning, but his eyes weren’t sparkling the way they usually did when he teased him. “Saving yourself for someone?” 

“You’re an idiot,” Derek said instead. “We’re not having this conversation.” 

“Okay, okay, have it your way,” Stiles eased back into his seat. “Don’t know why you’re bothering to hide it, I am a _master_ detective, as you know. I’ll find out eventually.” 

_God I hope not,_ Derek thought, casting a glance at Stiles. 

He was staring out his window with his cheek resting against one hand, left foot back up on the dash and something like disappointment in his scent. Derek frowned, but didn’t say anything about it. 

Stiles was silent the entire drive to the restaurant. Derek wasn’t sure what he’d said.

* * *

+1. Stiles doesn’t think Derek’s hot and that is surprisingly okay with Derek.

This so wasn’t his scene. Derek literally wanted to be _anywhere else_ right now, but he’d promised to come out, and he wanted to see Stiles, so he was going to fucking tolerate this drunken tomfoolery for at least a few hours. Until Stiles got too drunk to stand on his own and Derek had to carry him back to the dorm. 

At least Scott was nice enough not to insist he do it, considering he knew Derek was in love with Stiles and wanted to be close to him. Even if that meant carrying his drunk ass home. 

He shouldn’t even be fucking _drinking_! Stiles was only twenty, he wasn’t meant to be allowed into bars. Derek was kind of annoyed he’d grown up so much, because it meant his fake ID actually looked plausible. Not like back in the day when he had his buzz cut and his cute, round little pudgy baby face. Derek had no idea how he’d gone from adorable to drop dead gorgeous, but he was pissed off at whatever deity existed that they’d done this to him.

It was hard enough being attracted to pudgy baby-faced Stiles. It was just downright _cruel_ being attracted to good-looking, mature and older Stiles. 

Derek held his ID out to the guy at the front, even though he was _clearly_ over twenty-one—he was a very obvious twenty-three, thanks—and then shoved it back into his wallet while walking into the bar. 

At least it wasn’t a fucking nightclub, because Derek would be pissed the entire night if Stiles had forced him to come out to a fucking nightclub. A bar, he could tolerate. It was loud and annoying, but at least he could play pool with Scott against some poor idiots who didn’t know Werewolves were real. 

Derek made good money going up against people who thought he was an easy target because he looked like a ‘pretty boy.’ A murderer and a pretty boy, he didn’t know how he somehow managed to fall into both categories. 

Wandering further into the bar, he craned his neck, trying not to breathe too much, eyes scanning the area for Stiles. Normally he’d sniff him out, but this place smelled like vomit, sex, sweat and cheap beer. He didn’t want that in his nose all night, it’d be bad enough having to breathe in general without taking a huge inhale to find his friend. 

He spotted Scott first, leaning forward on the bar and could hear him call out for two beers over the cacophony around him. Derek didn’t bother approaching him, since he didn’t have anything to say to Scott. He was just there for Stiles’ end-of-semester celebratory drinks, nothing more. He wasn’t there to make friendly with Scott. 

Not that he didn’t like Scott, they just weren’t friends. He and Stiles were friends. Scott and Stiles were friends. Derek and Scott were more... allies. They recognized the need for one another, but weren’t exactly going to send each other Christmas cards. 

Which he did with Stiles and his father. It was awkward, but he did it. 

When Scott had the two drinks in hand, Derek’s eyes followed him back to where he knew Stiles would be and started in that direction when he froze. 

There was a guy practically hanging off Stiles, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and leaning fully into his space. He was very clearly drunk, and laughing loudly, but Stiles was smiling behind the edge of his nearly empty bottle, taking a sip from it and making no move to shove the guy off him. 

Derek felt jealousy rear its ugly head, but he tamped it back down and just moved out of sight a little bit. He didn’t want Stiles to spot him and wave him over, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the evening hanging out with Stiles and his new boyfriend, if that was who the guy was. 

Eavesdroppers never heard anything good about themselves, and Derek knew it. But right now, he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he heard something awful about himself, as long as he heard something less awful about the guy hanging off Stiles. 

_“—en! Hah, and **then** ,”_ the guy was saying, words slurring horribly, _“she said I had a pretty **dick**!” _

_“Well at least she complimented your dick after saying it was the smallest one she’d ever seen,”_ Stiles insisted with a small laugh. His voice was steady compared to his friend’s, but Derek could tell he was on the verge of tipsy. He’d been around a drunk Stiles enough times to know what his voice sounded like when he was on his way there. 

_“She was a skank anyway,”_ a girl’s voice said. Derek hadn’t realized that the group of girls beside the table with Scott, Stiles and the other dude were also part of their overall outing. 

_“Beth! Rude!”_ another girl insisted.

_“She **was**. You deserve **way** better, Caleb.”_

Derek listened to them speak for a few moments, feeling himself relax when it became clear what was really going on. Apparently this Caleb guy—who was very straight, based on everything coming out of his mouth—had been seeing a girl for a few months. Given exam period had just ended, both of them had been done the day before and had decided to take things to the next level. Apparently that hadn’t gone well when the guy’s dick had been mocked, and Caleb was now drowning his woes with his friends. 

It was exceptionally clear that this Beth girl was very interested in him, but apparently Caleb was too stupid to figure that out, continuing to bemoan that he was going to die alone for having a small penis even while she continued to insist she was sure it was a very impressive dick and he was welcome to prove it to her.

Knowing that the guy wasn’t hitting on Stiles made him feel better, and he’d just started to move out from behind the pillar he’d been hiding behind when he paused at the next words out of Scott’s mouth. 

_“Derek’s taking forever, I thought you told him we were meeting here at six. It’s been like, two hours.”_

_“You know Derek. Has to make an entrance,”_ Stiles insisted, smirk evident in his voice. 

Derek knew he should head over. He knew he should stop listening and head over now before he heard something he didn’t want to hear, but he couldn’t help it. They were talking about him with him _right there_ , and he didn’t often get the opportunity to listen in on Stiles talk about him. Especially with people who didn’t know him like Scott did. 

_“Oh, Derek’s coming?”_ one of the other girls asked excitedly. _“I’ve seen him around the dorm when he drops in to see you. I wish you’d told me he was coming.”_

 _“Why?”_ Stiles asked, clearly drinking down more of his alcohol. 

_“ **Because** , Stiles. I’d have actually put some effort into my outfit. And worn some make-up. You know, I would’ve tried to look **presentable** if I knew a **real man** was coming out with us tonight.”_

_“Ouch,”_ Scott insisted, though he didn’t sound too upset by her words. Derek figured Scott and Stiles were used to people looking past them at Derek by now.

_“Come on Scott, you’re cute and all, but you’ve gotta admit, Derek is **fine** as hell. So hot. So, **so** hot. I’d let him do me over and over again just to keep staring at that face of his.”_

_“He does have a nice face,”_ one of the other girls agreed. Scott made a sceptical noise and the first girl scoffed. 

_“Please, like you’re going to sit there and tell me you don’t think Derek’s hot. Stiles, back me up here. As the resident bisexual, you have to admit Derek’s totally fuckable, and we all know it. You’d let him do you because he’s hot, right?”_

Derek felt his heart begin to increase in speed at the words. She’d asked Stiles that question. _Stiles_! She’d literally flat-out asked him to his fucking _face_ if he thought Derek was hot. If he’d sleep with Derek.

If he’d _sleep with Derek_! 

_“No,”_ Stiles said in response, and Derek felt something inside him crack at that one, tiny, two-letter word. _“I wouldn’t.”_

_“Bullshit, you’d totally let him fuck you because he’s hot!”_

_“No, I wouldn’t,”_ Stiles insisted again, voice taking on a slight hint of anger. _“Can we stop talking about Derek fucking people?”_

 _“Touchy,”_ Beth said with a small laugh, but the other girls obediently moved onto another topic of discussion while Stiles loudly drank down half his beer.

Eavesdroppers never heard anything good about themselves. Derek should’ve known better than to listen. Wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been disappointed, but somehow he’d felt... he didn’t know. He and Stiles had seemed different. Even if Stiles didn’t like him the same way Derek did him, he’d never assumed he’d actually say _no_ to sleeping with him. 

Derek turned to leave while pulling out his phone. He could just say something came up. Stiles didn’t need to know he’d overheard this conversation, he could just go home, nurse his wounds, and wait a few days until it wouldn’t completely destroy him to see Stiles again. 

He’d just opened his messages to text Stiles that he wasn’t coming when Scott’s voice met his ears and he paused.

_“Dude, I can’t believe you didn’t say you’d let him pound you into the floor, aren’t you in **love** with Derek?” _

Wait, what?

 _“So?”_ Stiles asked.

Okay seriously, _what_?! 

_“What do you mean ‘so’?”_ Scott asked, exasperated. _“You couldn’t have just admitted that you’d let him fuck you?”_

_“They were talking about letting him fuck them because he’s hot. I’m not interested in what Derek looks like, Scotty. I mean, sure, he’s super attractive and I’ve always thought so, but that doesn’t have anything to do with why I love him. He’s an amazing guy. He’s nice, and honest, and thoughtful. He’ll drop everything to help out someone in need, even if he pretends it’s beneath him. He cares about people, he’s just—a great guy. I don’t care what he looks like, he could look like garbage, and I’d still let him fuck me.”_

Derek was pretty sure he was hallucinating because, seriously, fucking _what_?! 

_“Not that he ever would,”_ Stiles muttered around the lip of his bottle. _“Haven’t exactly been subtle with how I feel about him.”_

 _“Yeah, well, idiots don’t recognize when someone loves them,”_ Scott muttered.

Holy fucking shit.

Scott knew Stiles was in love with Derek.

Scott knew Derek was in love with Stiles. 

And he’d been sitting there trying to nudge them together for probably _years_ without flat-out saying anything. Derek wanted to punch him. Or hug him. He wasn’t entirely sure, he was kind of in shock. 

Stiles was in love with him?

But why hadn’t he ever _said_ anything?! 

Derek ignored that he, himself, had also never said anything but—why would he ever assume Stiles would want to be with him?! He was grouchy, and rude, and overall unpleasant to be around. Why would someone who literally shit sunshine like Stiles did want to be around a doom and gloom Werewolf like Derek?! 

But then... Stiles always called him to come out. Not even for monster things, but for general things. His birthday, Easter long weekend, reading week, freshman week, and even today. The end of exams. Stiles didn’t _have_ to invite him, but he always did.

And they texted a lot. Like, a _lot_. Sure, most of the texting was Derek calling Stiles an idiot, and Stiles telling him to stop being such a SourWolf, but still. 

Though even that was something. Stiles didn’t really have nicknames for people. He called them ‘dude’ and ‘man’ a lot, but the closest nickname anyone had was Scott. And his was just _Scotty_. Hardly a nickname. 

But he always called Derek SourWolf, or GrumpyWolf, or Grumpy McGrumperton. He always had weird little... Derek supposed they would be accurately classed as _pet_ names for him. Stiles didn’t do that with anyone else, only with him.

Holy shit.

Stiles really _was_ in love with him. Even if Derek hadn’t literally just heard it with his own two ears, thinking back on everything... 

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he turned on his heel and moved quickly through the crowded bar. Thankfully the few people who were stupid enough to almost get in his way noticed he was a man on a mission, because they practically threw themselves aside so he could move forward. 

Scott was laughing about something Caleb had just said and Stiles was busy trying to finish the beer in his hand when Derek appeared in front of their table, one of the girls at the one beside them straightening and smoothing out her hair at the sight of him. 

“Hey, you made it,” Scott said with a smile. 

Derek ignored him and just grabbed the bottle from Stiles’ hand, who sputtered briefly since he’d still been drinking it. Derek set it on the table as Stiles asked what was going on, but Derek just yanked the table out, the loud screech of it hurting his ears, though he didn’t worry about that. 

“Dude, what are you doing?” Stiles demanded, even as Scott gave him an incredulous look. 

Derek still didn’t say anything, shifting the table to the side since Stiles was in the booth with Scott and Caleb on either side. He couldn’t reach him with the table in the way, so as soon as it was _out_ of the way, he grabbed Stiles by the front of the shirt and wrenched him to his feet. 

Stiles stumbled, letting out sputtered protests, one hand closing around Derek’s wrist and asking him not to rip his shirt. Derek shifted his grip from Stiles’ clothes to his wrist, then turned and started marching them out of the bar, Stiles stumbling along after him, asking him what was going on. 

“Derek, are you okay? What’s wrong? Hey! What is going on?!” He was tugging insistently at the back of Derek’s jacket while they walked, but didn’t once try to free himself from the grip around his wrist. 

Derek waited until they got outside the stuffy bar and around the back where his car was parked, then pushed Stiles up against it. He made sure not to do so too violently, because he didn’t want to hurt him, but it was clear Stiles had no fucking idea what was happening. 

“Derek, _what_ is going on?!” he demanded, straightening slightly but using the car to keep himself standing. Derek was glad he wasn’t drunk yet, or even fully in the tipsy range, because it would’ve made this a much more difficult conversation to have. 

“You’re in love with me.” 

Stiles’ face went through many emotions in quick succession at those words. First was confusion, then shock, then horror, then neutrality. Like Stiles was trying to pretend he had no idea what Derek was talking about. 

“Am I?” 

Derek moved a step closer, getting right up into Stiles’ personal space. He braced his hands on either side of his car, boxing Stiles in, and didn’t miss the way his heart started jack-rabbiting in his chest when he leaned closer, their bodies almost touching, but not quite. 

“You said you were.” 

“Did I?” Stiles asked, voice low, like he was trying to figure out how he’d fucked up so badly as to talk about his feelings for Derek when said individual was supposed to be showing up. “You sure? It was pretty loud in there, and I—”

“I’m sure,” Derek interrupted, because no way was he letting Stiles talk himself out of this. “You’re in love with me.” 

Stiles stared at him for a long moment, and then he seemed to deflate, like he was conceding defeat. Sighing, he brought one hand up to the back of his head, rubbing it rather violently before tugging at his hair. 

“Look Derek, it’s fine, okay? It doesn’t—we don’t have to change anything, okay? I was in love with Lydia for years and we made it work in the friendship department, so you don’t need to worry about how I feel changing what we are.” 

“How you feel definitely changes what we are,” Derek informed him. 

Stiles had a split second for hurt to flash across his face before he froze, because Derek had brought one hand up and was sliding it slowly across his cheek. Stiles’ cheek was rough beneath his palm, the beginnings of stubble scratching against his skin, but dammit all to hell if Stiles wasn’t just the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. 

“If you’re up for it,” Derek said, voice pitched low and eyes lowering to Stiles’ lips. Those fucking lips that had always driven him _crazy_. “I was thinking we could celebrate the end of term in a different way.” 

For a second, Stiles just stood there, completely frozen. Derek wondered if maybe he’d taken it too far. Maybe Stiles needed to be eased into a relationship first, go on a few dates, have some coffee, things like that. It was a ridiculous thought, considering they’d literally seen each other covered in dirt and blood, and Stiles had helped keep various organs in place while Derek healed a few times, but maybe he was the kind of guy who wanted to take things slow. Get wooed and whatnot.

But that moment was fleeting, because eventually, Stiles managed to regain control of himself and his enthusiastic nodding was so reminiscent of the sixteen year old kid Derek had first met that it reminded him all over again that Stiles was still Stiles no matter how old he was, and Derek loved every single inch of him. 

“Yeah. Yes, _yes_. Let’s-let’s go and uh, whatever you want. Anything.” 

“Anything?” Derek grinned, eyes flashing blue. He heard Stiles’ heart stutter in his chest, a sharp exhale leaving him. “If you give me too much freedom, you might not be able to walk tomorrow.” 

“I can live with that,” Stiles insisted, his own eyes dipping down to Derek’s lips. “As long as you’re there to take care of me.” 

“I think I’m good with those terms,” Derek said, and finally, _finally_ , closed the distance. 

Stiles’ lips were as soft as he’d always thought they’d be, which was a funny thing to discover given how often Stiles seemed to chew on them. But they were. So soft. And plump and perfect and Derek wanted to kiss him forever. 

He brought his other hand up, gripping Stiles’ face between both, while Stiles himself had his fingers clenched in the front of Derek’s shirt, leaning forward almost insistently, parting his lips and licking at the seam of Derek’s. 

Derek had no idea how long Stiles had been in love with him. If it had been that first day in the Preserve, or even just this past year. All he knew was that he was so thankful they weren’t kissing desperately, because if they had been, he worried he might’ve gotten carried away and just torn Stiles’ clothes off right there in the parking lot. As it stood, with the soft kissing and the almost relieved sigh that escaped Stiles when they parted for air, Derek felt like they could probably make it back to the dorm before he fucked his brains out. 

“What took you so long?” Stiles demanded breathlessly. 

“Could ask you the same question,” Derek accused. 

Stiles grinned at him, shifting his hands to wrap his arms around Derek’s neck, tugging him closer. “Better make up for lost time then.” 

Derek was never going to get tired of kissing Stiles, not when every kiss with him felt like _this_. Like tenderness and love and rightness. Like Stiles was everything he’d ever needed in his life. Like Stiles _cared_ about him, and wanted this to feel just as good for Derek as it did for him. 

They were still kissing when Derek heard a soft snort behind him from the bar, and a voice muttered, “About time,” before turning and walking away. 

Derek trusted Scott to make up an excuse about why Stiles wasn’t going to be coming back inside. 

He really hoped Stiles’ roommate was out, because if he wasn’t, he sure as fuck would be the second Derek got them back to his dorm. 

The drive there was going to feel _entirely_ too long. 

But at least he could now confidently say that, while eavesdroppers never heard good things about themselves, maybe there was just that rare one percent that _did_. Because Derek had never been so, _so_ happy in his life to eavesdrop on a conversation. 

“Get in the car,” he ordered when they broke apart again. “Before I fuck you in this parking lot.” 

“You can fuck me wherever you want, SexyWolf.” 

“Don’t ever call me that again,” Derek ordered, pulling back and yanking open the driver’s door. Stiles walked around the car, grinning impishly while rearranging himself in his pants. And fuck if that wasn’t the hottest thing Derek had ever seen, even though it was clear Stiles had just done it to try and alleviate some discomfort. 

“AttractiveWolf? ManlyWolf? DreamyWolf?” 

“I’ll leave without you,” Derek said, shutting his door just as Stiles opened his and slid in beside him, still grinning. 

“PerfectWolf?” 

“Stop talking.”

“Make me.” 

Derek leaned over to kiss him again, sucking on his bottom lip and relishing the taste of him. 

If nothing else, at least he’d found a surefire way to shut that mouth of his. All he had to do was kiss him, and that wasn’t exactly a hardship. 

Eavesdropping _definitely_ paid off. Derek was forever going to be grateful he was a Werewolf. 

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis  
> Princess Bride (c) William Goldman
> 
> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).


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